When Asked
by LovesLustersLost
Summary: A family shows its' strength when one of them is a victim of the escalating tensions in Kirkwall.
1. Chapter 1

Lowtown's dusty buildings stood silent as the young man struggled to his feet. Unsteady, lurching steps propelled him slowly through the shadows. His left arm hung limply at his side while the right was wrapped tightly around his middle. Hearing men burst out from the tavern behind him, he staggered to the wall and did his best to melt into the darkness. Their laughter moved off and he continued on. His vision began to swim as he came upon the stairs leading to his destination. A He paused at the bottom as if to collect himself. A halting step, then two but on the third his toe caught the lip of the stair and he crashed down with a cry. Groaning and writhing, he coughed and spattered red on the sandy stone. He looked up and managed an awkward crawl to the top. His left arm was useless, but still he tried to avoid putting weight on his damaged torso. Each step seemed higher than the last. He could barely see the door just a few feet away. With his last measure of strength, he summoned an ice ball and sent it flying into the rough hewn wood of the door. He heard the thunk of the impact as his head dropped to the dirt and he lay there too weak to move. After a long pause, he heard the door fly open, and the sound of voices.

Leandra smiled. She had finally managed to get a somewhat pleasant conversation going between the two sourpusses of the house. She'd never tell Carver, but he always did remind her a little of Gamlen. Her brother was talking about the basics of wallop, trying to puff out his chest a little in front of the lad. Throwing a little joke here and there was all she needed to do to keep Carver engaged. The younger man sat honing the large blade per his usual habit in the evening. Even as she saw his resemblance to Gamlen, her dear husband seemed to look out from their youngest boy's eyes when he smiled. It had been so long since they'd lost him. The sickness taken hold so quickly, then he was gone before they really had a chance to say goodbye. She gave her head a little shake to clear the cloud of melancholy in her mind. These moments were too few to spend them pouring over the past. Her eldest would be home soon, and then she'd have all her loves together under one roof. _Gamlen too_ , she thought slyly.

A dull thud sounded at the door, drawing everyone's attention. "Bah, pay it no mind!" Gamlen grumbled, "probably some filthy urchins throwing dung." Carver's eyes narrowed, "No, look at the door." A small circle of frost appeared near the bottom hinge. "What in the world?" Leandra muttered as she moved toward it. "Mother!" Carver jumped up, "Let me." "Carver, don't be silly. It's probably nothing." "Why don't you just let me to take care of it?" Carver asked exasperatedly, "Just go stand over there by Uncle Gamlen." Leandra slid aside as Carver, blade in hand, strode boldly for the door. Pausing a moment, he tossed it open and jumped aside. When nothing struck out at him, he stepped through to see what was there.

"Brother!" he cried, seeing the limp form at the top of the stairs. Carver dove to his side, checking his pulse at the neck. It was fast and shallow. Turning him over, he began to see why. The elder Hawke's face was swollen and beginning to bruise, his lips peppered with the same red that trailed from his hairline. Looking around, Carver saw no immediate threat, but that could change in an instant. Laying his blade down, he grabs the shoulders of his brother's leather jerkin began to drag him inside. A strangled yell went up from the wounded man, but they had to get him out of the open.

"My darling!" Leandra shouted as she rushed toward him. "Let me get him inside!" Carver barks. Leandra backs away form the door with her hands to her mouth. Her son. He groans sharply as Carver lowers him to the floor. The young Hawke hurries outside and returns with his blade. Leandra knelt next to her boy, tearfully pleading with him to open his eyes.

Carver spies his uncle fidgeting nervously by the table. "Don't just stand there Gamlen, help me!" "What do want _me_ to do?" he asks defensively. " Grab his legs, we have to get him into a bed." "No don't move him anymore! Can't you see the pain he's in? We need to get a healer!" Leandra interjects. "He can't stay in the middle of the floor!" Carver growls. "If we move him again, we could injure him more," Leandra counters quickly, "I need you to run and find that healer friend of yours, and bring him here as quick as you can." "And leave you here alone?" he asks incredulously, "Whoever did this to him might be waiting to finish the job!" "Who is that elf who lives nearby? The one you two have been traveling with?" "Merrill?" "Yes! Gamlen can go to her and ask her to fetch the healer. We don't have time to argue!"

"Now hold on!" Gamlen objects, but he's interrupted by a fit of coughing from the pathetic form on the floor. Leandra tries to lift her grown son, but can't quite manage. Carver jumps in to help and Leandra is able to slide behind him for support. She takes a handkerchief and wipes the fresh blood from his lips. His wet breathing worries her even more. Hawke's eyes open for a moment and make contact with his uncle's. Even Gamlen's selfish nature couldn't withstand their silent plea. Without another word, Gamlen hurried to the door and out into the night.

After he'd gone, Carver took a good look at his elder brother. His left shoulder was misshapen, obviously out of socket. There were bruises and scrapes all over his arms that looked suspiciously like boot marks. The skin on his hands was split open at the knuckles, which had bruises of their own. His face had continued to swell on one side, the normally sharp cheekbone all but disappearing underneath the darkest bruise Carver had ever seen. The wound on his head was still bleeding down the edge of his face and into his collar. His big brother who had always stood so strong, now lay as weak as a babe in his mother's arms.

"Carver, get a blanket please," Leandra softly interrupts Carver's reverie. A few tears hang in her eyes as she draws her wounded boy closer. He groans slightly, and Leandra plants a gentle kiss in his hair. His skin feels slightly chilled, the wet sounds in his breath continue to worry her. Carver returns with the blanket and lays it across them both. "He'll be alright. Mother. He's too stubborn to die." After that, they sat in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Carver stood at the ready when he heard footfalls on the stairs. Leandra's heart began to beat a little faster, worried that whoever did this was indeed back to finish what they started. "Who goes there?" Carver challenged. Anders voice rang back, "I'm here, with Gamlen and Merrill." Carver threw open the door and the healer rushed inside. Anders was barely dressed, carrying his typical green robe under his arm and a large bag over his shoulder. His hair hung loose and wild. Seeing his friend on the floor, Anders went to work immediately.

"Hawke, can you open your eyes? Can you look at me?" At this point, Hawke could only open one, so he stared hazily in Anders' general direction. The healer flashed a light from his fingertips and his patient flinched away. Moving quickly, Anders continued his exam, ghosting his hands over the battered body of his friend. Cuts were still oozing and bruises still forming, Carver wished they could just get on with it. When the exam reached halfway down his brother's chest, he saw a frown crease the mage's face. Carver's stomach did a small flop. Realizing his audience, Anders schooled his emotions and moved on. When he finished, he leaned in to listen to the altered breathing of his charge. The wet, wheezing sound was exactly what he expected. With determination, Anders abruptly stood and strode over to the work table to empty supplies out of his bag. "Merrill, I need you to finish this."

Merrill jumped at her name and hurried over to where Anders was arranging herbs and tools. "Have you ever made the antidote for Magebane?" "Magebane?!" Leandra gasped. Anders still focused on Merrill, "Can you do it?" She stuttered, "Wh- uh, ah yes." "Good. Here are the ingredients. Make sure you don't skimp on the elfroot." He spun around, seeing that the pallor of his charge increased, he addressed Carver firmly, "We need to set that shoulder before it swells too much." "Right," Carver replied, relieved to have something to do. "Mother, let me take him." Leandra had watching this all with wide, fearful eyes. Anders reaction had cemented the alarm in her mind and she couldn't bear to have anyone remove her son from her arms. "Mistress Hawke," Anders murmurs as he kneels next to her, "the faster I do this, the better for him it will be." Leandra met his calm gaze, and slowly moved aside for Carver to take her place. Carver braced himself firmly against his brother's back despite the moans of protest. Anders quickly palpated the joint, and then settled his grip on his companion's arm. "On three," he instructed, " One, two, three!" There was a sickening pop, and a yell from the bloodied man on the floor, as the shoulder was shoved back in socket.

Carver shifted position so that his brother now rested against his broad chest. The man was in a sorry state. He gasped weakly for breath between choked noises that could be either coughs or sobs. Anders put his hands to his friend's chest again. "What's going on?" Carver asks insistently. The healer ignored the question. "Merrill, how is the potion?" "Almost ready. I think," came the meek reply. "Don't over think it, I need it now," Anders called over his shoulder. All of a sudden she appeared beside him. "Here it is," she muttered, her nerves obviously on edge. Anders gave it a sniff and gently grabbed Hawke's jaw. "Drink this," he commanded as he poured the mixture down the inside of his friend's cheek and the instinct to swallow took care of the rest. Hawke groaned and tried to turn away, but Anders' hold was firm and slowly he drained the potent tonic.

Anders knew the potion would need time to work. Magebane was a common poison in Kirkwall, he'd treated many apostates with exposure to it in his time here. The weaker versions of it brought on nausea and diminshed a mage's mana. A strong one could silence the victim's powers entirely and then be fatal in a matter of hours. While the antidote he'd developed was highly effective, he had no way to know how much Hawke had been dosed with or how long ago. The worried eyes of Hawke's family all asked the same question at once. As much as he wished to, there was no answer to give them.

"Carver, your mother shouldn't be here for this next part," he remarked grimly. "I have a right to be with my son!" Leandra interjected loudly. "Not when you're stopping me from saving his life!" Anders bellowed. Before Carver could take a breath to join in, Merrill had jumped in between them shouting, "Please just stop! Look at him!" Hawke's every inch was covered in dirt, blood or a bruise. He was trying to speak, but no words they recognized made it past his lips. Leandra knew Anders was right, but seeing her eldest son like this was sending Leandra into a frenzy of fear and heartbreak. Merrill grasped her elbow, "We'll be nearby. I'm sure there's something we can do to help in the meantime." The women entered the next room and Merrill shut the door before Leandra could look back.

The two men carefully began to remove Hawke's armor, loosening all the ties they could and cutting the rest. The thick, hardened leather was unweildly and their patient not much help. As they pulled it awkwardly over his head, Hawke gave a sharp groan and went completely limp. Anders threw the heavy piece to the side and checked the man's pulse. "Anders, I swear if he dies...!" Carver growled quietly. "Quiet and let me work," the healer snapped back. With the armor out of the way, the mage found what he was looking for. A small seeping wound under his friend's right arm, just below the armpit. "Those bastards," he muttered. "What?!" Carver demanded. "He's been stabbed." he snapped back. "It's an assassin's trick. They use a thin, long blade coated with poison and finish with a beating." The young Hawke's face went red with anger. "There will be time for that later," Anders responded, "Lay him down." Carver gently lowered his brother to the floor and stepped back to make room.

Taking a deep breath, Anders summoned power to his hands and focused. The blade had been long indeed, Hawke's injury went dangerously close to his heart. Had he been struck on the left side, there would have been no saving him. The healer felt the magebane still active along the knife's path, but there was no more time to wait. In the short time since they started to remove his armor, Hawke had gone from white to gray, his lips now a frightening shade of blue. Anders brought his full strength to bear as the poison fought him. The muscles began to tense throughout Hawke's chest until his back arched off the floor. Slowly, the wound began to close. Anders was tiring, but he knew he couldn't stop. Hawke's body couldn't take a second round. With one last effort, the mage finished his spell and unsteadily slumped back on his heels.

Hawke seemed to breathe easier, but he did not wake. Carver came back to kneel at his brother's side. Between the bruises and the dried blood, he made a pitiable sight. "We need to clean him up and move him to a bed." Anders said tiredly. "Put him in mine," Leandra said quickly. Merrill came in sheepishly behind her. "She wouldn't wait anymore." Anders nodded, "Carver, we'll use the blanket." He grabbed the discarded item and together they carefully maneuvered it beneath the patient's battered body. "Take his shoulders," Anders instructed, as he stood to grab the other end. But when he did, he stumbled and was only saved from falling by Merrill's quick reflexes. "Maybe you should let someone less exhausted carry the wounded," she quipped. Anders sighed in frustration but Merrill continued, "Hawke's mother and I will each take a corner, it'll be fine." "Alright," the warden replied. "Where's Gamlen?" Carver asked accusingly. "Your uncle felt his time was better spent elsewhere," Leandra said coolly. "She means he got restless and went to the pub after saying something rather stupid," Merrill supplemented with a frown. "Of course he did," Carver grumbled, "Let's get on with it."

On Carver's count, they lifted the silent form and slowly moved him into the next room. Anders gathered some supplies and slowly followed. He came in just as they were laying Hawke down in what appeared to be the best kept bed in the house. There was a worn but decent pillow that Hawke's mother tucked in firmly behind her eldest son's head. "Merrill, can you please fetch me the hot water?" Leandra asked quietly. In her tone, Anders heard the practiced calm of a noble. He wondered what her story was. At any rate, he was glad she had thought to start a pot boiling while he worked. "Here. Clean bandages," he muttered. The graceful lady gently took the items from his hands and guided him to sit on the other cot in the corner. They locked eyes for a moment and then she said, "Thank you for everything you have done tonight." Her words were simple, but their weighted sincerity made him feel unworthy. Anders dropped his gaze."He's not safe yet," came the regretful sigh. Merrill suddenly reappeared with the steaming kettle and Leandra left to tend the hurts she could manage.


End file.
